


Home For Christmas

by hetalia_textbook



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5360696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetalia_textbook/pseuds/hetalia_textbook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon receives a letter from his parents every year to come home to their sleepy town every Christmas and, every year, Napoleon declines with a thoughtful letter with an apology and an explanation of whatever prior promise or work obligation is keeping him in New York. As of late, these explanations appear to lack various women asking him to woo them and work and more about a very good friend who Napoleon can’t bare to leave alone. Illya Kuryakin seemed like a cold and aloof man in their son’s letters, but Napoleon’s family was beginning to see the charm. They just hadn’t expected their lady’s man of a son to find such a thing, in a man no less, attractive. In any case, the Solo family refuses to be known as a bigoted bunch and decide that they will let their son live his life as he pleases and they’ll let him know of their support. If only Napoleon could figure out what in the world they were talking about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yearly Invitations

Napoleon returned from the mail room with an arm full of letters and junk mail. After glancing at the Christmas coupons and catalogs that companies thought he would enjoy during the Christmas season, Napoleon sat down at his desk and sorted through what he had received.

A few were from lovely young women he had once spent Christmas with or recently taken out, asking if he’s like to join them again; some promising a wonderful time, while others promising delectable food. It would be quite a pity to say no to all of them. He wondered if he even had time away from the office this year. The past few years, Christmas had been a blur of affairs and curiously festive THRUSH attacks. Besides, even if he did find some free time this year, most of it would be spent at his partner’s side.

Illya had admitted to him when they were first partnered together that he usually spent his Christmases alone without a family to go back to. In fact, he even made sure Napoleon knew that although there were Soviets who kept what little religion they could grasp onto, all good Soviets were atheist. Moreover, his parents had passed away years ago, he was estranged from his older brother, and his eldest sister had her own family to care for. Illya was known to send her letters, but Napoleon knew so little beyond what Illya had let slip past his lips over the years, that he had no idea if she ever responded.

“Good morning, Napoleon,” Illya muttered through a bagel as he entered their shared office, a coffee in one hand and a stack of files in the other.

Napoleon smiled and watched as his partner sat down at his desk and set down the objects occupying his hands. The senior agent was pleased to know that Illya could be so casual around him to greet him with his mouth full of breakfast. Illya was a courteous and aloof individual and rarely let his guard down. It made Napoleon’s heart lighter to know that Illya felt comfortable enough around him to shed his defenses and give him a smile or two. “Morning, Partner mine,” Napoleon said and smiled. Although, the bagel had muffled most of the words Illya had said, the recognizable lilt of a greeting was enough to give Napoleon some idea. “Have any plans for the rest of the day? I’m thinking about going out to lunch later,”

Illya removed the bagel from his mouth, foregoing actually taking a bite until after he had answered Napoleon’s question. “I’m going to try to finish all of my paperwork before the end of next week. We finally get two weeks off and I’m not going to spend it doing paper work,”

“Oh, that’s right, we do have two weeks off this year, don’t we,” Napoleon affirmed. After their most recent affair, leaving the two men bruised and disoriented, Waverly finally decided that even his two best enforcement agents needed to rest. The fact that Napoleon had forgotten made it clear to him that Waverly’s generous two weeks were well deserved. Napoleon returned to the letters he had received and was quickly drawn to handwriting he recognized almost instantly. His mother’s penmanship hadn’t changed in years. His parents were most certainly asking him to come home again this year. Returning home wouldn’t be a terrible way to spend his first real vacation during Christmas, in years. However, he felt terribly about leaving Illya behind in his tiny apartment if he did decide to go.

Napoleon opened the letter and found the contents to be fairly intriguing. His mother recounted the past couple of months since they had spoken and gave Napoleon news on how his father’s heart was fairing and small updates on his sister’s whereabouts and what his nephews and newborn niece were up to. She eventually broke off from her pleasant ramblings to inquire once more if Napoleon would be so kind as to come home for Christmas.

One thing caught Napoleon’s attention. His mother had offered him an extra seat at the dinner table for Illya. She was very adamant about letting Napoleon know that they would very much welcome his Russian friend into their home. They desperately wanted to meet the young man that Napoleon talked so fondly of. Napoleon lips pulled wispily at the corners and he looked over toward the younger agent diligently working, hunched over his desk, bagel being devoured. Napoleon wasn’t fairly certain that Illya would be willing to follow him to a sleepy town in Michigan, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“What would you say if I asked you to come with me to my parents place?”

Illya briefly looked up from his paperwork and turned to look at him, “Why do you ask?”

“I wouldn't want to leave you alone on Christmas,” Napoleon admitted, “and my parents seem pretty adamant about me coming home for the holidays now that I have the time,”

Illya pressed his lips into a fine line and looked back down at his paperwork, “I wouldn’t want to intrude,”

“You wouldn't be,” Napoleon comforted, “In fact, my mother is leaving a seat at the table open for you,”

“You mean for whatever new lady friend you decide to bring home and you’re substituting me instead,”

“No,” Napoleon said truthfully, “I think I’ve talked about you enough that they want to meet you,”

“...They realize that I am Russian, correct?” Illya asked wearily. Illya had always been cautious around new people, especially the “all-American” families of his “all-American” co-workers. While Napoleon and the various men and women who worked alongside him at UNCLE had learned to trust him, although they still spread the occasional harsh rumor, their families wouldn’t be all that trusting of a Russian foreigner right away.

“Yes, I’ve told them and they still want to meet you,” Napoleon looked into Illya’s concerned eyes and smiled, “I promise, they don’t bite,”

After a small paused, Illya nodded, “Alright, I’ll go with you, but on one condition,”

Napoleon raised an eyebrow at Illya’s cryptic bargain, “And what may that be?”

Illya rooted through the in-box on his desk and pulled out a stack of papers that had been hidden under his already overflowing stack of paperwork. He held the papers out for Napoleon to take, “You must do your own paperwork,”

Napoleon chuckled, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,”

“I always notice,” Illya returned to his paperwork, “In fact, I think that the typing pool is starting to notice that your handwriting is beginning to look suspiciously like mine,”

Napoleon smirked, took his paperwork from Illya, and set to work.


	2. Going Home

“This is the place,” Napoleon said, motioning toward the small farm house, dusted in newly fallen snow. Illya looked up from the map Napoleon had given him when he had been designated as navigator at the beginning of the trip. The house was aged, but well cared for. The driveway had been recently shoveled and a small, clumsily dressed snowman sat under a well aged and bare tree.

“Adorable,” Illya said.

Napoleon chuckled and turned into the driveway. Illya quickly noticed tire treads in the remaining snow that had not been successfully scraped from the pavement. Frowning, he took a mental note that someone had recently left the house. He hoped that they wouldn’t be intruding while Napoleon’s parents weren’t home.

Napoleon put the car in park and pulled his keys from the ignition. The heater stopped and the cold was slowly creeping in. “Alright, let’s head in,” Napoleon said with a smile and opened the car door from his side. The chill quickly overpowered whatever warmth remained in the car. Illya zipped up his coat and opened his door just as Napoleon was beginning to remove their suitcases from the trunk.

Napoleon handed Illya his suitcase before they walked up to the porch steps side by side. Napoleon rapped his knuckles against the door and waited. For a moment, there was no response and Illya wondered if his worries of Napoleon’s parents being out were realized. A moment later, a muffled voice from behind the door called out.

“Coming! Coming!” the voice called and a bit of clattering could be heard before the door was unlocked and opened. A lean woman smiled up at the two of them, her brown eyes bright, even with age. Most of her hair near her ears had turned grey at the roots and the beautiful dark brown strands had lost most of their luster, but it was obvious where Napoleon got his looks from. The woman’s eyes lit up at the sight of her son. She excitedly reached out and wrapped her arms around the younger man’s shoulders, lightly kissing his cheek. “Oh, Napoleon! It’s so good to see you!” She pulled away and looked him over, “You look so tired. I’ve told you time and time again you need more sleep,”

“I’m trying my best, mom,” Napoleon said with a chuckle.

“Well, hopefully we can remedy that by the time you’re ready to go back to work,” Napoleon’s mother redirected her attention to Illya, smiling cheerfully to greet him. She reached her wrinkled hands out to him, hoping he would return the gesture and rest his hands in hers. “You must be Illya,”

Illya nodded, the corners of his lips turning up in a polite smile. He offered his hand to her and she shook it, her hands warm and gentle. “And you must be Napoleon’s beautiful mother, Mrs. Solo,” he said kindly.

“Oh,” Napoleon’s mother cooed, “Call me Catherine. Let’s not be so formal. You know, Napoleon has told me so much about you. I wasn’t expecting you to be so handsome!”

“Mother, please,” Napoleon groaned.

“Napoleon, it’s alright. He’d never go for an old lady like me,”

“I see where Napoleon get’s his looks… and charm,”

Catherine cackled and covered her mouth to muffle the sound. She shook her head at the antics that were occurring on her front porch motioned for them to come inside. “Come in, boys, come in. We’re letting in all the cold,”

The inside of the house was endearing. Knick-Knacks were lovingly placed around the house. Illya recognized many of them as souvenirs Napoleon had purchased when a few of their successful affairs ended early and left them with time to sightsee if they were careful. Illya had always wondered that happened to the odd trinkets, since he couldn’t find them anywhere around Napoleon’s apartment. It was strangely endearing to learn that this was where they all ended up.

What wasn’t covered in souvenirs, was decorated in tinsel and lights. A freshly cut tree sat in the living room, covering in various ornaments and handmade trinkets that appeared to have been crafted by the untrained hands of toddlers. It was a gaudy and sentimental set up. The only thing missing was the star at the top. There was also a permeating smell of mothballs and Illya chose not to mention it. It was clearly the proper choice, because Napoleon brought it up himself. “How many moth balls is too many, mom?” Napoleon chuckled.

Catherine chortled and snickered as he entered her cozy kitchen to hover over a pot of chowder. “Oh, we’ve missed you, dumpling,” she sighed contently, “We’ve missed you,” After checking to be sure her chowder was doing well, Catherine turned back to face them.

“Go ahead and put your coats away,” She motioned for them to follow her and lead them toward the staircase, “I hope you boys don’t mind, but Matilda got here yesterday and took over her old bedroom and the only extra mattress for the babies to have on the floor. You’ll have to share Napoleon's old bedroom,”

“That’s fine,” Napoleon said as he shrugged off his coat and grabbed their suitcases from the hall, “We’re used to that sort of thing,”

“Are you?” Catherine asked, although she seemed to be feigning surprise, as if she had been expecting such a claim. Perhaps Illya was imagining it, because after the thought made itself known, her surprised expression seemed genuine as Napoleon continued. “Waverly’s likes to cut corners to save a bit of money on our business trips and pays for single beds instead of two as of late,”

“More like our Mr. Waverly is getting cheap,” Illya said and took his bag from Napoleon.

Catherine nodded, her lips pursed in thought, as if she hadn’t been expecting that explanation. “Alright then, you two,” she said, shifting the focus back on getting the two of them settled, “You head on upstairs and get yourselves comfortable. Julius took Matilda and her babies out to town for a bit of window shopping. They should be back soon,”

“It’ll be nice to see them again,” Napoleon chimed, “How old are Lincoln and Jacob now?”

“Do you ignore my letters, Napoleon?” his mother teased, “They’re ten and eight now! I’ve told you this! They haven’t seen you since Jacob was a three. They’re very excited to see you and meet your Russian friend. They won’t stop talking about it!”

“I hope I don’t disappoint,” Illya said and with another of Catherine’s hearty chortles, Napoleon and Illya ascended the staircase.

“She’s a very giggly woman,” Illya commented.

Napoleon nodded, “Always has been. Dad used to say it was her laugh he fell in love with first. He says it’s like an angel’s,”

“...Romantic,”

"Very,"

Illya looked around the bedroom that had once belonged to his partner as a child. Other than the empty spaces where belongings and furniture had been taken when Napoleon had moved out at eighteen, the room had been left as it had been when Napoleon had once spent his time there as a child. A bedside table sat beside the bed with a small alarm clock ticking quietly on its surface. The floors were covered with a pale soft carpet and the walls were decorated with blue wallpaper. Across the room was a bookshelf that had been taken over by Napoleon’s father and his history books and underneath the far window a dresser pushed against the wall. Through the window, they could see the bare tree that Napoleon used to climb on as a child and the lone snowman in the front yard. 

Napoleon placed his suitcase on his old bed and set to unpacking. Illya followed soon his lead. Once their clothes had been folded neatly into the dresser at the far end of the room, Napoleon made himself comfortable and laid down on the bed. Illya sat down on the edge, staring down at Napoleon who tucked an arm underneath his head and closed his eyes. “It’s good to be home,” Napoleon sighed.

Illya took a moment to wonder about how the sleeping arrangements would work, considering Napoleon took most of the space on the bed and Illya did not particularly like the idea of falling onto floor in the dead of night, when he heard the front door slam shut and voices cheerfully call out from the floor below them.

“I saw a car! I think we know what that means!” shouted a booming and cheerful voice.

Napoleon smiled and blinked his eyes open, “Dad’s home,”

“I suppose we should greet this family of yours then,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and keep an upload schedule. I want to stay about a chapter ahead on my story, so each upload will probably be a few of days apart. Don't worry if a chapter takes longer to come out, I _definitely _plan on finishing this. Thanks for all the support guys! I'm glad you all liked the first chapter!__


	3. The More, The Merrier

Napoleon and Illya descended the stairs together to find Napoleon’s family congregating near the front door, pulling off their coats and scarves. As they reached the last couple of steps, Napoleon’s father took immediate notice of them. His eyes light up at the sight of his only son and called out to him.

Napoleon mirrored his father’s joyous expression and met him at the base of the staircase. They hugged and gave gave each other hearty pats on the back before letting go. Napoleon’s nephews were just as quick to act, giving Napoleon hugs from a running start, colliding with legs. Fortunately, he expected it and neither boy came close to bowling the man over. It was a heartwarming scene. One would think they hadn’t seen Napoleon in years and based on what Illya understood, they hadn’t.

“Boys, behave,” Napoleon’s sister, Matilda, called out.

Napoleon chuckled and ruffled the boys’ hair, “It’s fine! It’s fine!”

“Looks like you’ve finally decided to come out of hiding, Napoleon,” Napoleon’s brother-in-law teased, “None of us have had any idea where you’ve been these past few years. Finally giving us a glimpse?”

“Work has me pretty busy,” Napoleon explained as he pried his Nephews off of his legs.

“We can tell,” Matilda joked and stepped forward, “You didn’t even have time to come see your new niece!” She held the baby in her arms up for Napoleon to see. He smiled down at the drowsy infant. She had clearly been woken up by the commotion, but wasn’t very enthusiastic about her wake up call and instead appeared ready to fall back asleep again.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” Napoleon greeted and received a quiet coo in return. “She just like her mother: lazy,”

“She’s a few months old,” Matilda teased and lightly jabbed her brother’s arm, “She sleeps as much as every other baby! In fact, if I remember correctly, you barely lifted a finger unless it was for some pretty girl from school!”

“Behave, you two,” Julius said and the siblings resolved their playful squabble.

After the excitement had died down, Napoleon introduced Illya. It was a strange feeling to have the family’s undivided attention diverted to him after the commotion Napoleon’s presence had brought about.

“Illya,” Napoleon’s father stepped forward and grabbed Illya’s hand in a firm handshake. He almost seemed surprised by Illya’s grip, “Stronger than you look. I’m this casanova’s father, Julius. You’ve already met the Mrs. and this our daughter, Matilda, her husband, John, and their little ones, Lincoln, Jacob, and Elizabeth,”

“Right,” Illya said, “It’s a pleasure, but… If you don’t mind me asking… Julius, Napoleon, Matilda, Lincoln, Elizabeth, and… Jacob?”

“It’s a Solo tradition to name your children after famous rulers or leaders,” explained Julius, “but John was a bit too eager to break the tradition with Jacob,”

“Just give one kid a normal name,” Johns complained, “Just one,”

“They are normal names and it’s a tradition,” Matilda said.

“Honey, your brother’s name is Napoleon. Your family clearly has no self control,”

“Neither do you,” everyone else shot back, and John smiled and relented.

“Interesting… family dynamics,” Illya smirked.

“You don’t sound Russian,” the eldest boy, Lincoln, said with disappointment in his voice.

“I learned English in England,” Illya explained, “So I suppose, I tend sound more English than Russian every once in awhile,” He didn’t particularly feel like adding that the original purpose of it was to disguise his accent when he left for America. There was no need to draw too much attention to himself, especially in his line of work.

“Really?” John asked, “So what made you move to the States?”

“An office transfer,” was all Illya said and there was a moment a pause where the other inhabitants of the room had expected him to say more. When they realized he wasn’t going to elaborate, they laughed, finding the interaction awkward, but silly, none the less. Napoleon had warned them, after all.

Catherine soon corralled her family into the dining room for dinner. The chowder was finished, as well as the bread she had been baking, and the large group sat down to eat. As promised, Illya had a seat and it was right next to Napoleon’s.

The seating situation made some sense. Illya’s seat was most likely where Napoleon’s lady friends sat when or if they ever met Napoleon’s family. It must be a fairly rare occurrence, however, considering Napoleon was never very inclined to have a steady relationship in the years Illya had known him. More over, it just made sense to place an outsider of the family next to the one who had brought them. 

The family chattered happily about their lives and experiences while Napoleon was away. There was something about the neighbor's’ fishing boat tipping over, although no one was hurt, a family friend’s child going to college, and how Napoleon’s childhood friends were fairing. Illya couldn’t help but feel as though he was intruded by silently listening in on their conversations.

Napoleon had been making a few attempts to include Illya, but he didn’t have much input. He didn’t know these people Napoleon’s family brought up or the odd inside jokes, nor did he know how to react as he learned more about his partner’s childhood. Napoleon had certainly matured.

“I hope everyone’s still hungry for dessert!” Catherine said once dinner was done and she set dessert on the table, “I hope you like pie, Illya,”

A slice of sweet potato pie was handed to him after Julius divided the dessert. Illya had been expecting apple pie.

“Goodness, you’re so thin. I never would have expected the stomach on you,” Catherine laughed as Illya took a second helping of pie. 

“He’ll eat anything, mom. He’s practically a bottomless pit,” Napoleon said jokingly, elbowing Illya lightly.

Illya smiled around the fork in his mouth. The pie melted in his mouth.

“If only I could have gotten you to eat like that as a child, Napoleon,”

Once dinner was finished, Illya returned to Napoleon’s bedroom while Napoleon stayed behind to talk with his family. He could hear the muffled laughing through the floorboards. A typical family reunion was rather foreign and exhausting to him, yet intriguing. Napoleon had asked Illya to stay downstairs and have a drink with them after Matilda had put the children to bed, but Illya had declined. This was Napoleon’s family, not his. It didn’t feel right to listen to anymore personal stories and banter, when he had no clue how to respond without the fear of insulting someone or inspiring confusion.

Napoleon was happy to finally be around his family and Illya was willing to give him space. He didn't want to intrude.

Downstairs, Julius frowned to himself between sips of his drink.

“Something wrong, dad?” Napoleon asked. Matilda had seemed to notice Julius’s behavior as well and was thankful someone was bringing up their father’s sour mood.

“I get the feeling that friend of yours doesn’t like us very much,” Julius said, almost unsure if he should speak his mind. Napoleon had never known his father to be hesitant to tell Napoleon what was on his mind and he wondered if it was Illya’s nationality that bothered his father.

“He likes you. He’s just not… great at expressing himself,” Napoleon decided to say, “Actually, I think he’s holding back. He wants to make a good impression,”

“Not doing a very good job of it,” John muttered and received a disgruntled smack to the arm and a harsh look from Matilda. John appeared affronted.

“Illya’s doing his best,” Napoleon said. John wondered if the harsh look in his wife’s and brother-in-law’s eye’s were in their genes. “He’s a good guy. You just have to get to know him,”

“Oh, I’m sure we will,” Catherine said and smiled, “He’s such a nice young man. He was so gentlemanly when you first got here. We just need him to warm up to us,”

“Solos pride themselves on being hospitable,” Julius finally said, his smile returning.

“Good luck,” John said, “That guy’s like an iceberg. What, did Siberia freeze his heart?”

“John, how much have you had to drink?” Matilda asked.

“...Two glasses… three...uh...?”

“Still a lightweight, aren’t you John,” Napoleon smirked.

“Boys, no fighting,” Catherine stressed, “Matilda, dear, put John to bed before his says something else,”

“I was just playin’ around,” John stood, “Sorry, Napoleon,”

“That’s alright, just don’t say that to his face,” Napoleon said in warning and stood up as well, “I’d better head off to bed too. It’s getting late,”

“Good night,” Julius and Catherine called as their children and son-in-law left for the stairs. Once they were alone, Catherine sighed “Our kids sure know how to pick ‘em,”

“A son-in-law without a filter and a frigid Russian in love with our son… Looks like we have some work ahead. Don’t want any animosity in this household, especially if the man our son is in love with doesn’t like us. He seems like a nice one too,”

“They’re probably still too nervous about what we’ll think to say anything just yet. Do you know what Napoleon told me when I mentioned them sharing beds? It’s for business trips. They only book one bed to save money,” Catherine chuckled, “Oh, that boy…We’ll just have to make sure we let them know we love them no matter what,” Catherine decided and left for the kitchen when she remembered she needed to let her pots soak over night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad people seem to be enjoying my story! I'll have more free time in the next few weeks, so hopefully I won't fall behind on updates.


	4. Misunderstandings

“Another bag?” John asked as Matilda handed him a full shopping bag from the store she had just left.

“Oh, please, it's just a small one. You're not even carrying that many,” Matilda playfully patted his cheek, “I'll you what: You go get Napoleon to put these in the car and guard them and we get to go see Santa!”

They’re children cheered and clammered to convince their father that it was a wonderful idea, overjoyed to finally be told they’d get to see Santa. John smiled and nodded, although he had wanted to escape shopping with his wife to pick up something he had planned to surprise her with for a while, he supposed the Napoleon could be his way out.

Napoleon wasn’t hard to find and it wasn’t hard for John to convince him that he needed his help. Matilda expected John to help her with keeping the kids under control when they went to see the Santa at the small shopping center. None of the children ever seemed to realize that it was just Julius in a Santa suit either. The man was an excellent actor. This, however, would be a problem, because although he’d loved going, he needed to pick up his gift for Matilda. He had been called and told that it had come in, but he hadn’t been able to escape the family outings over the past couple of days to grab it.

“It’s Opal, her favorite,” John said and handed Napoleon the bags, “That jeweler isn’t too far from here; only about a block,”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it,” Napoleon patted John on the back, “I might as well find Illya too. I haven’t seen him all afternoon,”

“I’m pretty sure he was dragged away by your mother,” John laughed, “Better catch them before the small talk drives him insane,”

 

“Are you engaged?” Catherine asked as she walked alongside Illya. She hadn't meant to ask him so suddenly, but the ring on his left ring finger had peaked her interest. It was a simple ring; nothing too special. It didn't particularly seem like something Napoleon would buy for someone, but it certainly seemed like something someone like Illya would feel comfortable wearing and she supposed that would make it special.

“Oh,” Illya glanced down at his left hand, “I suppose I forgot to move it when we left New York,”

This peaked Catherine’s curiously further. “I don't understand,”

Illya removed his ring from his ring finger and moved it to another. It was his father's ring; a memento he kept from his life before the navy. Nowadays, Illya placed the ring on his left ring finger to stop women from attempting to flirt with him. His secrecy was somehow more alluring than Napoleon's openness, but at least that let him get away with a few white lies to escape the unwanted attention. He didn't particularly see the point in lying to Napoleon’s mother, so he decided to tell her the truth. “It's just something I use to stop the women at work from attempting to… flirt with me. I don't know why they would, but they usually stop when they see a ring,”

“Oh, I see,” Catherine laughed. She saw the truth in his statement, but she caught the slight undertones he was hinting toward. He had a reason to not want or enjoy a woman's company and she was perfectly fine with it. If only she could show him he didn't have to worry about it without frightening him or making him want to deny it the moment she brought it up.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “We’re so glad to have you here. We can't help, but think you aren't as happy. Which is perfectly fine, of course,”

“No, no, I'm happy to be here,” Illya assured her, “It's just a bit… new to be around such a happy family… I haven't seen mine in a long time,”

“Really? Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry,”

“Please, don't be,” Illya smiled, “I'm happy to be here,”

“I'm glad,”

“What are you two talking about?” Napoleon asked, only walking into the conversation a second before.

His mother was talking a bit by surprise, but Illya seemed as though he had been hoping Napoleon would appear soon. Catherine smiled and shrugged her shoulders, “Oh, nothing. Illya was just telling me about that lovely ring of his,” That ought to do it. If she brought attention to it, perhaps they’d admit it all on their own and she wouldn’t embarrass the two of them.

“Oh yeah?” Napoleon asked and he glanced at the ring with fondness. He remembered Illya telling him about his family and what the ring meant to him, as well as how he had recently started using it to stop the flirting at work, “Has quite a story behind it,”

Now Cathrine only wanted to know more. Oh, what could she have done that her son would keep secrets from her? She was sure she had made it clear in his youth that she’d love him no matter what. Oh well, she’d just have to try a bit harder in the future. Perhaps, all this beating around the bush was discouraging them. Napoleon clearly thought their relationship was worth talking about considering that comment. She should just say that the family already knew right then and there, but they were in public and they had only really told their closest family friends who had sworn not to tell anyone because news spread fast in a town like theirs and not everyone was as accepting. She’d wait till they were home.

“Oh, by the way,” Napoleon said, remembering what he had come looking for them for, “Do you want to come with me to the jeweler? John needs something picked up,”

“He can’t go himself?” Illya asked.

“He’s busy with his kids. Come on, I haven’t seen you all afternoon, plus, it’ll be warmer than out here,”

“I’ve lived in far colder places,” Illya said.

“As you’ve said before,” Napoleon teased.

“So, I’m fine,”

“Just because you’ve been colder, doesn’t mean you can’t get cold…” Napoleon smirked, “ You’re shivering,”

“And not another word about it,”

They two of them started to leave when Napoleon noticed his mother wasn’t following, “You’re not coming, mom?”

“You two go on without me,” Catherine said waving goodbye, “I’ll go watch your father, I mean Santa, entertain the children,”

“Alright, Mrs. Claus,” Napoleon waved back, “See you in a bit,”

The store was small and decorated with colorful lights fit for the season. Napoleon met the store owner at the front desk, while Illya looked at some of the simmering items the store had on display. There was a small Christmas sale for last minute shoppers looking for a gift. Napoleon gave the store ondwer his brother-in-law’s name and what he had been sent to pick up. After a nod of recognition of the order and a small chat to catch up with Napoleon since he had last come to town, he left for the back of the store.

The small bell above the store’s door rang as the door was pushed open and a woman walked inside. At the sight of Napoleon, her eyes lit up. “Napoleon,” she called out and reached out for him.

Napoleon turned around at hearing the woman’s voice and smiled. “Julia,” he met her halfway and returned her hug. She lightly kissed his cheek and pulled away to look up at him. “It’s so good to see you again,” Julia said joyously, “My parents said something about you coming back home this year, but I didn’t believe it!”

“Of course I did!” Napoleon laughed, “I missed home,” Napoleon caught Illya in his sights and he motioned for Julia to turn around so he could introduce him properly. “Julia, this is my friend, Illya. Illya, this is Julia. We went to school together,”

“And dated,”

“For a month,”

“Still counts, even if we are just friends now,” she teased and laughed, “I’m so sorry. You’re Illya? It’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,”

“You have?” Illya asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Napoleon’s parents told mine about some mysterious guy their son was spending all his time with. I’m sure they’ve said something about my parents. Did they tell the boat story?”

“You mean when it tipped?” Napoleon asked and something clicked for Illya. She was the daughter of the family friends’ whose boat had overturned. He hadn’t expected to meet anyone from these stories, but he supposed it was better than being completely clueless. “It’s good that no one was hurt,” Illya said.

“So you did hear! My dad keeps talking about it like it was life or death, but the boat is so tiny and old, you could stand up and have it tip. He was barely in the water before one of his fishing buddies helped him out,” Julia rolled her eyes as she recounted her father’s antics.

“So what brings you here?” Napoleon asked.

“I needed some jewelry polished before New Years and I just got a call about them,” Julia stepped around Napoleon, who was still waiting for the the store owner to return with his brother-in-law’s purchase, and asked the second employee for her order. They got her name and left to find her jewelry in the back.

She stepped aside as the owner returned and showed Napoleon the necklace John had paid for in advance. Julia smiled and stood beside Illya. “You know,” she said when she knew Napoleon was paying attention, “I never thought Napoleon would be the type to settle down,”

Illya smirked ever so slightly as his friend’s reputation came to mind, “He still hasn’t,”

Julia seemed surprised, “Really?”

Illya nodded, “I’m not sure he ever will,”

“Oh…” Julia paused and shrugged, “Well, I suppose I can’t judge… I don’t think I could be in a relationship when the other person goes off with others. I’d be so jealous,”

“Hm,” Illya wondered briefly why she was telling him this. He wasn’t particularly interested in her idea of a relationship. Perhaps he should have left the ring on his ring finger.

“Do you ever get jealous?”

This took Illya by surprise, “Why… would I?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Julia shook her head, silently berating herself, “I shouldn’t have asked. That’s too personal.”

“It’s alright,” Illya promised.

“I’m happy for you two,” she smiled fondly at the memories of her childhood friend, “It’s good to see Napoleon out of that slump he was in when he first left home after the war. You’ve done wonders,”

“Me?”

“Ms. Davis?” the employee held out a box with her newly polished jewelry. Julia smiled and took the package and paid.

“Be good to each other,” Julia said to the two of them and left with a smile.

“What did she mean by that?” Napoleon asked.

Illya paused and thought for a moment. Napoleon shrugged and reached for the door to leave. Illya tentatively followed and frowned. A moment later, he asked, “Does she think we’re a couple?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I'm surprised it took me so long to update, but this is also my longest chapter so I shouldn't be so surprised, especially having to wait a few days before my computer was fixed. I don't have much to say really, so I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday! One more chapter left (I think).


	5. Tradition

Once home, Illya escaped to his and Napoleon’s shared room. Napoleon followed a few steps behind. Illya’s brows were scrunched together in thought and Napoleon silently observed him. “It’s not that big of a deal,” Napoleon said after a moment of Illya refused to acknowledge him.

“No, I suppose not,” Illya said, but he looked at Napoleon skeptically, “It doesn’t bother you that your family believes you’re attracted to not only men, but _me_?”

“Not really,” Napoleon shrugged and returned Illya gaze, “Does it bother you?”

“Only if it bothers you,”

“Well, it doesn't,” Napoleon smiled and patted Illya’s shoulder, “Rumors are harmless unless you give them power and I'm not bothered by anyone thinking we’re a tad too close,”

Illya smiled, “Neither am,”

-

Catherine had been a bit worried when Illya had been in such a rush to leave the group when they had returned from the market square. She silently wondered if she had struck a nerve when she had been talking to him or, perhaps something had happened at the jewelry store. Napoleon had mentioned they had seen Julia there. It might have been a bad idea to tell their old family friends about Napoleon’s new love interest. Julia had certainly seemed happy to hear it. Catherine couldn't fathom the girl saying something terrible.

When Illya and Napoleon returned the tension seemed to seep away. The small upturn of Illya's lips was hardly noticeable, but one seen, left behind a warm and inviting feeling.

Dinner progressed with the usual chatter. Illya joined in quite a bit to put in his two cents on a topic, ask a question, or even answer questions about life in his home country. Thankfully, any discussion of politics was shut down before it even started.

The night continued and Lincoln and Jacob begged to open just one present before bed. They were playfully told no, but they wouldn't have to wait much longer. They were put to bed soon after their baby sister had been placed in her crib, but neither were very tired. In fact, they had an interesting idea they simply had to try out.

In the attic, there was an extra piece of plastic mistletoe that hadn’t been hung.

“Why don't you ever want to tell us more about work, Napoleon?” Julius asked.

“It’s boring,” Napoleon explained, “It wouldn't make for a very nice letter home,”

“No, I guess not,” Catherine said, “but it be nice to hear about what makes it so boring. I can't imagine you just bored to death in a stuffy old office. There has to be more to it. What do you say, Illya?”

Illya shrugged and attempted to look playful when he said, “Oh, it's extremely boring. There's nothing to tell,”

“You boys and your secrets,” Matilda rolled her eyes, “You’re all alike. I ask John how his day at work was and all I get is ‘same as usual’. Give us a little more substance than that!”

“Do you want to know where he went to lunch and how many times the printer malfunctioned too?” Napoleon asked jokingly.

Matilda laughed, “Maybe! That'd be a better sorry than, ‘work as usual’,”

A small hum caught their attention. Lincoln and Jacob leaned over the back of the couch where Illya and Napoleon sat, mistletoe in Lincoln’s fingers directly above their heads.

No one moved.

“You gotta kiss now,” Lincoln said.

“That's the rule!” Jacob chirped.

Illya and Napoleon briefly looked at each other. The mistletoe dangled above their heads and though they knew the expectation of tradition, they both knew they could resist tradition. However, their earlier discussion made the situation a bit more tense. This misunderstanding needed to be cleared up.

“Boys,” Catherine said her voice reserved, but reassuring, “Please don’t look so upset,”

“Mother,” Napoleon started, but Catherine continued.

“We know. We’ve known for a while and we’re okay with it. We love you. Lincoln, Jack, please, take that away. Napoleon, don’t give me that look,” 

“There’s been some sort of misunderstanding,” Napoleon corrected her.

Julius frowned, “Napoleon, it’s alright. You’re grown. We don’t care what you do,”

“No, I-,”

Illya grabbed Napoleon’s arm to gain his full attention. Napoleon paused in his denial of his family’s assumptions to turn to him. Illya cleared his throat before calmly saying, “It’s alright,... dear. They’ve already said they don’t mind. I don’t think they're lying,”

Napoleon quietly groaned when he caught the small quirk of Illya’s lips. “You’re awful, you know that?” he teased and Illya shrugged.

“He’s right,” Matilda said, “We don’t mind it at all. Go on and kiss,”

The quick peck on the cheek was awkward enough without John saying that wasn’t a real kiss and they should try again. The children were only encouraged to tease and laugh before being sent to bed in fear that Santa would know they were still awake and skip their house.

-

Christmas and New Year came and went and soon their short vacation was over. Napoleon’s and Illya’s relationship hadn’t been brought up much after Lincoln’s and Jake’s bright idea and Napoleon had no idea how to tell them their assumptions had been wrong when they so strongly believed it. By the end of their stay, Napoleon had never managed to correct them.

“I can’t keep lying to them,” Napoleon said as he situated his luggage in the trunk of his car. Illya rolled his eyes and leaned against the car.

“It’s not a lie. They made it up themselves,”

“That’s true,” Napoleon accepted, “but I can’t keep letting them believe it. What about when a meet another nice girl?”

“You’d cheat on me?” Illya asked in mock offence.

Napoleon shut the trunk and stood up straight, “Stop that,”

“I should have known,” he teased.

Napoleon was used to his friend’s teasing by now. After years, he found it endearing and the new direction the playfulness was going in was just fine. Although, he wouldn’t let Illya have all the fun. He leaned in and pecked Illya’s cheek, “I’d never cheat on you, my friend,”

“Come on,” Napoleon pulled away and turned to walk to the driver’s side of the car, “Let’s go before Waverly sends someone to get us,”

Illya stood frozen for a moment and leaned a bit harder on the car. His cheeks burned bright red. If anyone asked, he'd try to blame it on the cold. As he regained his senses, Illya turned and opened the passenger side door.

Catherine leaned out of the front door of her house and waved, disappointed to see her son go, but overjoyed that he had found happiness in someone like Illya, “Goodbye boys! Be good to each other!”

They both gave her a final wave and drove away.

Illya wondered if he and Napoleon wouldn’t have to lie. If he could just… say something.

“What are you thinking about?” Napoleon asked after a long moment of silence.

“Nothing,” Illya said, “...You’re family is… wonderful,”

“I’m glad you think so,” Napoleon smiled, “Maybe we can visit them again next time we can get away from work. If you’d like,”

“I’d like that,”

“Good, they really like you,” Napoleon smiled and sighed, shaking his head, “They really like you,”

“I’m glad,” Illya said and attempted to meet Napoleon’s eyes, but the other man kept his eyes one the icy road ahead of them. Perhaps, he’s say something another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a lot longer to write this chapter than it really should have, considering it's my shortest one. I wanted to end it with the cute idea that made me write this fic in the first place, which was Napoleon's nephews holding mistletoe over their heads. I don't know what happened, but once the break ended and school started up again I couldn't find time to sit down and finish everything up. I hope this chapter doesn't seem to rushed, but I wanted to get it up before I lost my motivation for it.
> 
> I hope you guys like it, regardless. Sorry for the long wait!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a mfu related fic, so I hope this goes smoothly. I'm pretty new to the fandom, so I hope my characterization isn't too far off. Napoleon's family will pretty much all be made up by me. I hope that's alright. Let me know what you guys think. There will be more chapters coming soon!


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